EMP Catastrophe | Book 2 | Erupting Danger

by Hamilton, Grace

  But then he remembered Jade and her conversation with Matthew.

  “The guards released us,” he said and hated that the lie came out so easily. “They pretty much abandoned the prison, so one day, they just opened all the cells up and gave us a fighting chance to survive on the outside. I walked most of the way here, but I look so crappy because I broke into a car. I managed to get it working, but the wheel locked up and I coasted off a bridge. Rolled the thing, even.”

  There was, at least, some truth mixed in.

  Kathleen looked aghast. “Oh my god.”

  “Yeah. It was bad. That’s why I have a concussion.”

  “I can’t believe they just let you out.”

  Max swallowed hard as the truth welled up his throat. He couldn’t let it out, especially now that the lie had been spoken. It was a small one, anyway. Just a slip of the truth. He wouldn’t tell any other lies but that one. “Me either. But at least I’m here now. I found you, Kathy, even after the world ended.”

  Kathleen’s eyes grew soft with tears. She let out a shuddering breath and held his hand as though it were precious. “Get some sleep,” she said, standing up and giving him a wobbly smile. “You look like you need it. We can talk tomorrow. I’ll probably come and check on you in a couple hours, anyway.”

  She eased toward the door and turned back around. “Hey Max? I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Me too, Kathy,” Max whispered. “Me too.”

  23

  Everyone in the hotel felt divided, the awful feeling increasing throughout the day and into the night, as if everything had taken a side. It suffocated the room, transformed it into something otherworldly. Like…vampires and werewolves, or aliens and astronauts. While Patton generally liked that kind of stuff, he hated the tension because it just wouldn’t go away. His dad and Jade, for example. He couldn’t figure out why everyone was being so mean to her. Sure, she messed up—she’d killed someone!—but she’d taught Patton how to hold a gun, and she gave him these kind smiles that made him feel like he could do anything, and he knew she could teach him loads of stuff.

  He liked people who knew stuff. He liked learning new things and bonding over that knowledge, and Jade seemed like one of those people who could teach him how to fight and shoot and build one mean compost toilet. Disappointment had washed over him when he found out Jade was leaving for good this time. He thought about asking her to stay, wanted to swear to her up and down that he thought she was swell, but Allison had shot him one of those don’t-you-dare looks which shut Patton down. Usually, he liked to make Allison give him those looks. She spent too much time on her phone anyway, but ever since the Apocalypse (and that’s how Patton liked to refer to it in his head, capital letter and all), she’d become a lot more serious. She felt like the paladin of their group.

  Patton? Well, he was the warrior, obviously. A warrior still in his apprenticeship, but strong of heart nonetheless. Ever since Samuel West had been kicked out of their hotel, Patton swore he wouldn’t be weak again.

  Warriors didn’t sit around and wait for things to happen. Warriors acted. Warriors protected their grandmothers and sisters and strangers on the side of the road because it was the right thing to do. Patton wanted to slay his fear, which lay curled inside of him like a restlessly sleeping dragon, just on the verge of waking.

  For warriors, things were supposed to be black and white, but Patton was beginning to discover the appeal of shades of gray. He liked Jade, even though she’d hurt people. He liked his sister better since the Apocalypse, even though she slept way too much. He liked his dad acting all ruthless and kicking Samuel West’s butt. He wanted to be like that. Tough. No nonsense.

  When he woke up the next morning and still felt the tension thick in the air, he decided enough was enough. He couldn’t sit around and marinate like meatballs in spaghetti sauce (as delicious as that sounded—he was so over Lucky Charms). He wanted to get some fresh air. Stretch his legs. Spread his wings.

  The sun peeked over the tops of the mountains, and Patton wished he could practice his dry-firing. For a moment, he considered sneaking one of the handguns from his grandma or father, but that idea went out the window. He knew he’d be in deep trouble for that one, and not even the rush of disobedience was enough to make it worthwhile. So it seemed lucky, like toy-in-the-cereal-box kind of lucky, that when he leapt off the front porch of the hotel and started to walk through the fields, he came upon a very special stick.

  It was long like the shotgun and smooth like the polished barrel, and he could tuck one end into his armpit while aiming the tapered point toward the birds that fluttered across the sky. It was almost as good as the shotgun his dad carried around. He pretended to aim at the branches and gave the stick a jolt in mock-firing, pretending that he’d absorbed the recoil effortlessly. He practiced keeping both eyes open while he aimed, even tracking clouds across the sky before mock-pulling the trigger. He pretend-shot the leaves, a rabbit that hopped across his path, he even pretended to shoot the sky. His marksmanship was flawless. He began to win awards. Crowds of fans put him on their shoulders with a rah-rah-rah and told him he was one of the best gunmen history had ever known. Better than Jesse James.

  “Patton! Patton, where do you think you’re going? Patton!”

  His grandmother’s sharp voice cut through his daydream. Patton sighed and lowered his stick, turning to see Ruth power walking toward him with her arms wrapped tight around her torso. Her shawl fluttered behind her in the light breeze. Okay, he probably should have told someone where he was going. But couldn’t a guy get a little peace and quiet? Did he always have to leave a note? Did everyone have to know where he was at all hours?

  “I’m just playing, Grandma,” he said, showing her the stick. “Wanted to go for a walk. I’m fine—”

  A heavy weight landed on his shoulder. The dragon of fear inside of him jerked awake and blew flames of terror into Patton, making Patton’s heart stutter. A hot wave rushed through him. Ahead of him, Ruth came to an abrupt stop. Her face reflected the same kind of fear churning inside of Patton and it reminded him of how she looked when Samuel West ruled the roost: helpless, worried, and frustrated.

  The hand on Patton’s shoulder tightened painfully. Patton’s breath eased out of him in a soft gasp and he wondered with dread if Samuel had come back and now had Patton in his clutches.

  “Come here, ma’am,” the voice behind Patton beckoned. “I’d like to have a little chat.” The hand was blunt-fingered and tattooed. Definitely not Samuel’s. When Ruth faltered, the hand on Patton’s shoulder turned into a viselike grip, and he let out a small squeak of pain. He could feel the person’s fingers digging into his skin, probably leaving bruises.

  Ruth took a couple reluctant steps closer. She looked grave. “Let him go, please. Please, I’m begging you.”

  “Hush, ma’am. None of that. I’m not here to do him any harm.”

  Ruth was close enough that Patton could see the stark dread on his grandmother’s face, and he felt helpless. Once again, he’d failed. He wasn’t a warrior. He was just a stupid kid who kept getting into messes. He was the person who got kidnapped, who had to be saved all the time. Some kind of warrior he turned out to be. He was the damsel in distress.

  “What do you want?” Ruth asked and tightened the shawl around her as though it were her own armor.

  “I’d like to introduce myself,” the man said. “My name is Colin, and it’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m here looking for information.”

  Patton felt the man behind him shift, like he was bending over. Then he felt the man’s other arm loosely encircle his shoulders and a cold flat sharpness cut into his neck. Instinctively, Patton’s chin tilted up as if to avoid what felt like a knife blade, but instead, it only exposed his neck that much more. Ruth’s face took on a horrified expression, and even though Patton’s limbs felt like jelly, he tried to make his face stoic and strong for her.

  The dragon of fear in him had taken fligh
t, but he couldn’t let that turn his resolve into mush even as he blinked back tears. He wanted to be brave for his grandmother, but even so, his knees shook.

  “Don’t scream,” Colin said, and it seemed as though he was speaking directly to them both. Patton didn’t think he could scream if he tried. His voice had dried up like a raisin. The man’s voice slithered in Patton’s ears like something oily and evil. “You won’t like what I do if you scream. Like I said before, I’m only looking for some information.”

  ‘What do you want?” Ruth asked, her lips tight with fear and rage.

  “I hope you can answer some questions for me,” Colin said, moving the knife just enough so that Patton now knew what people meant when they said a blade could bite.

  “Fine.” Ruth glared at Colin.

  “Has a Max Patterson showed up around here?”

  The hairs on the back of Patton’s neck stood up. His grandma’s face twisted, as if the question tasted bitter. Don’t tell him, Patton begged her silently. He knew that if she said yes, that Uncle Max was home, this Colin would do all kinds of terrible things. He might even be worse than Samuel West.

  “Yes,” Ruth said after only a moment’s hesitation, and it felt as though she’d released a guillotine blade.

  “How do you know him?” Colin asked.

  Grandma, don’t. Don’t sell Uncle Max out. Warriors don’t give up.

  Ruth’s pause extended into drawn out silence. A bird chirped overhead. The knife bit further into Patton’s neck, and he felt a slow, sharp stinging pain. “She’s being difficult, isn’t she?” Colin said to Patton. “Maybe, when I’m done with you, I’ll see to her and make sure she tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me god.”

  I’m sorry.

  “Max is my uncle,” Patton whispered.

  “There’s a good lad,” Colin said, and the hovering presence over Patton lifted. It seemed as though he could breathe again. The sharpness against his neck eased back, even if he could still feel the blade edge every time he swallowed. “You’ve raised a good boy, ma’am,” Colin told Ruth. “I think I’ll take him for a walk. He seems like he knows the place. Maybe he can tell me a bit more, help me get to know it all better.”

  “You will not take my grandson,” Ruth commanded. “You have what you want, now give him to me.”

  “Grandson, huh?” Colin tutted. “You’ll get him back tonight. Tell Max he has until sundown to meet me at the gas station next to this quaint town’s welcome sign.” Colin snickered in amusement. “He would have passed it staggering up the hill after his little car accident.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Ruth said, “but I can’t promise he’ll show. Please don’t take my grandson. You can have me instead. I’m sure he’ll come either way. The boy can run faster and tell Max sooner than I can. You’d be better off holding me hostage.”

  Hostage. Patton’s stomach dropped. Guilt wrapped around his insides like black thorny vines. What kind of warrior got taken as a hostage?

  Colin made a negative sound. “I don’t think that’s how this will play out, ma’am. I appreciate your imagination, though. Tell Max that if he’s not there, this kid will pay for his crimes, and he does have so many crimes.”

  “Don’t you dare hurt him. He’s an innocent boy, he hasn’t done anything to you. Please take me instead—”

  “Sundown,” Colin snarled and the blade dug back into Patton’s neck. Patton began to hyperventilate as he felt a trickle of blood move down his skin. “The welcome sign. The gas station. Tell Max. Now turn around, ma’am. We have to be on our way.”

  Tears flowed freely down Ruth’s cheeks. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  “Don’t make me ask you again,” Colin said.

  Ruth’s eyes fell on Patton, and Patton felt every ounce of love she had for him in his heart. He wanted to be strong. Needed to be strong.

  “What did I say?” Colin said.

  Ruth’s chin wobbled, and she let out one gut-wrenching sob before she turned around. Her shoulders shook. Colin backed Patton up past the property line and further into the trees. Shadows crossed Patton’s face, and the last thing he saw before the wood swallowed them up was the tense, jagged line of his grandmother’s back, as sharp and dark as the mountains backlit by sunlight.

  24

  Matthew pulled on his coat and stepped onto the porch. You could cut through the tension in the hotel with a knife, he thought with a grimace. He’d spent his night awake, going over his actions and words of the last few days, trying to walk in Jade’s shoes to see life like she did. He oscillated between feeling justified in his choices and chastising himself for being too hardheaded and stubborn. He couldn’t figure out if he was the good guy or the bad, and at some point when the moon had drifted halfway across the night sky, he decided life couldn’t be broken down into black and white. He and Jade were two different shades of gray, and he would have to live with that.

  He wanted to apologize to her again, but he knew she didn’t value his words anymore. He knew he could be arrogant sometimes, dismissive of others’ experiences—hell, just look at Kathleen’s old roommate Rhonda, he’d called her crazy as soon as he learned about her prepper background—and it seemed those old habits were rearing their ugly heads with Jade as well.

  At the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done his best under the circumstances. His need to protect his family outweighed any sense of empathy he might have for Jade. He couldn’t shake that. So while he realized he needed to be a bit more compassionate, he couldn’t quite bring himself to say he’d done everything wrong. He’d done what he could for his family. He would continue to do so.

  But a long night full of deep contemplation meant he needed some fresh air. It was early morning, but already the Riley clan was stirring and getting ready for the day. Kathleen had spent the night checking on Max on-and-off. Matthew smiled. He was glad to have his brother-in-law back home. Max and Kathleen had a somewhat strange relationship. It seemed to him as though one minute they were thick as thieves and the next they stood on opposite ends of the spectrum. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so he didn’t completely understand it, but it gave him the feeling that Kathleen could gossip and bad-mouth her brother all she wanted, but if anyone else did, they would face her sisterly wrath. Having Max at the hotel, she could get back on the old merry-go-round of picking on him, and that seemed to give Kathleen a distraction from her own struggles, a purpose to focus on. For a little bit, she had that familiar glimmer in her eyes.

  Outside, the sharp, clean mountain air filled his lungs. He breathed in deep and decided to take a stroll along the fence perimeter. It had become habit at this point to check the fence line and search for any indication of trespassers. After the Carpenter Country incident, Kathleen had reported no one lingering around the property or spying on them, but Matthew knew that Wyatt was one man out of a million on this planet. Anyone could meander up to the hotel with ideas in their heads. Better to be safe than sorry.

  Summer had truly begun to take root. The air had lost all hints of spring chill, and Matthew started to sweat in his coat. A warm breeze danced by him, making the pines rustle. He heard a plop as pinecones fell from the boughs and watched as squirrels scurried to the next food source, already thinking ahead to winter and preparing for it.

  Maybe I should think like a squirrel, Matthew thought with a smile. Patton might have some tips. The kid had a huge imagination and a unique way of viewing the world.

  The sound of hitched, gasping breath cut through the chitter-chatter of birds and small woodland creatures. Matthew came to a stop. His heart began to race because he knew that desperate crying. He’d only heard his mother cry a few times in his life, and always when something terrible had happened. When his father had had his heart attack, Ruth had broken down at one point, her wrenching cries like nails to Matthew’s heart. He always felt so helpless when his mother cried. He’d never forget the sound.
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  He started to run toward the sobbing. Soon, he saw her hunched shape kneeling in the tall grass just beyond the fence line. He dove for her, crashing to his knees beside her. His hands wrapped around her shoulders as he pulled her face up to look at him. No bruises, no cuts, no bleeding. She seemed physically to be fine, but the agony in her tearful eyes sent a chilling fear rushing through him.

  “What happened, Mom?” he asked and hated that a tremor of childish fear seeped into the question. Even as a grown man in his prime, the sight of his mother reduced to such a fragile state made him feel young and helpless again. He would do anything to make her feel better.

  The words came out too fast, as though she couldn’t catch her breath. “Patton,” she gasped. “Patton.”

  Matthew’s eyes widened as he stared at his mother. “Patton? What about him?”

  “He…he…” she started before another round of sobs clutched her, seeming to steal her voice.

  She’s having a panic attack, Matthew thought. He held his mother tighter, this time hoping to support her. Even though he wanted to shake her and force her to tell him what had happened, she looked like any additional pressure might break her. “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s get back to the hotel, somewhere safe where we can talk. Can you at least tell me if he’s unharmed right now?”

  Ruth looked over her shoulder and seemed to shudder in agony, but she gave a nod. Matthew urged her up to her feet and she leaned heavily against him. She’d never looked so frail before, never so old. She felt like a bundle of sticks in his arms, ready to collapse into a heap. Matthew began to panic in response and felt as though her fear and grief were seeping into him. If it had to do with Patton, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what she had to say. At the same time, the parental protectiveness in him wanted to demand that his mother tell him what she meant.